How It Really Went Down
by The Red Celt
Summary: The biggest beat-down in the history of beat-downs. Another ending-fix, because I can't deal with the FEELS. Happily ever after minific, rated T for mild language.


Shepard stood there looking at the three choices that had been presented to her. Destroy the Reapers, synthesize organic and synthetic life, or control the Reapers and send them packing. Integrate into the Matrix, if you will. It was almost funny, this pathetically transparent ploy, and if her insides hadn't been hurting like hot glass wrapped in sandpaper, she might have laughed. As it was, she had a hard enough time staying upright but she still managed to turn around and look that self-righteous little puke in his borrowed face.

"What will you choose?" the starchild asked, still affecting a relaxed tone with just the right hint of sadness. It might have had her convinced, once, but she'd dealt with him too many times not to recognize what he was doing.

"I choose . . . other," she said and started hobbling over to a nearby console, hoping that it was still functional.

"What?" Confusion marred his speech. Good, she thought. Let's get you a little rattled.

"You gave me a multiple choice question, and I'm telling you I'm going with Option D—none of the above." She tapped the keyboard and scanned the display quickly. Yes, it would be quick and dirty, and risky as all hell, but if there was anyone who could pull it off, it was Joker.

As soon as she got out of here, she was going to change her name to "Goddamn," as in "Commander Goddamn Shepard." It had a nice ring to it.

"There is no other way. You must do this—without your sacrifice, billions will die." Oh, he was getting desperate now. The starchild's projection flickered red for a split second, just long enough to confirm what she already knew.

"Appealing to my better nature, are you?" The link was open, she just had to make a connection. Not from here, though . . . but there was another server somewhere else in the ruined Citadel that would work. The patch would take just a few minutes, just long enough to make absolutely sure the bastard knew just how thoroughly he'd lost this war.

"Let me tell you something, you might think you know about organics because you study us, because of a bunch of lines of code that you think means something. I'm here to tell you that you don't know a goddamn thing about us, and you certainly don't know how I work if you think that I'm going to turn myself into a martyr and give up just because it might look hopeless." A wave of pain hit her midsection and she nearly doubled over in pain; she needed a doctor, and soon. That would come soon enough, though.

The starchild had gone silent, and it was frowning at her now. His eyes had gone cold and hard and totally inhuman. The link finally established and her message sent, she turned around and limped back to the glowing white hologram, grinning ferally.

"So let me make this clear for you, _Harbinger_," she hissed. "You couldn't kill me when you came after me with the Collectors. You couldn't kill me when you attacked Earth, and you're not going to get me to do your job for you now by trying to convince me to kill myself." The starchild flickered red again, and his face twisted in hate. "So you can take your choices and shove them up your ass, because I've still got something you hadn't counted on."

"And what's that?" Harbinger asked, foregoing the child's voice in favor of his own rasping bass.

Shepard could have danced in glee when, right on cue, the Normandy appeared in the huge panoramic windows and Joker's blessedly sarcastic voice echoed in the vast, empty space.

"_Hey Commander,_" he called, "_got room on your dance card for one more?_"

"Hell yeah, let's make it a party."

"_Good, I'm sending out Garrus with the shuttle now. Any requests?_"

"Yeah—get rid of this window, would ya?"

"_Yes, ma'am._" Shepard stood well back and off to the side, putting up a force field to protect herself from flying shrapnel.

"You've still lost, Shepard," Harbinger growled. "The harvest will continue."

There was a deafening blast and the window shattered into a million twinkling shards just before the Kodiak appeared with its side door wide open. Garrus stood there with his rifle, looking like he wanted nothing more in the world than to vault into the Citadel and hug her, but he knew better than to go all Rhett Butler on her in the middle of the biggest beat-down in her career, maybe in the entire history of beat-downs.

"I don't think so. I think you've been around long enough—time to give it up, Harby." She took Garrus' hand and grunted in pain as he pulled her up into the shuttle. He brought his rifle up to his shoulder, sighting down at the enormous cylinder she indicated.

Destroy. The only way to end this.

"Any last words?"

A synthetic Reaper scream tore through the air and the starchild disappeared. Garrus braced himself and pulled the trigger, blasting a hole in the huge metal column. He fired again and again, going through at least four heatsinks before it burst into flames, triggering a string of mini-explosions.

"Get us out of here, Garrus."

He closed the door and turned, his fingers brushing hers in a gesture that held so much more than words, then hopped into the pilot's seat while Shepard buckled herself in. The Normandy was already underway and they had to punch it to catch up, but they managed to land in the shuttle bay just before she hit her stride and went into FTL mode.

The Citadel exploded in a red burst of light, sending shockwaves throughout the entire galaxy and the Reapers went dark, falling down to the surface or going limp and floating lifelessly in space. She watched the red lights of their optics blink off one by one through the tiny window, exhaustion slowly stealing over her.

"Would you look at that," Garrus said wonderingly, then turned around and saw her eyelids slipping closed. "Shepard?"

"Mmmm?"

"Shepard, you've got to stay awake, all right? Shepard!"

She wanted to tell him it would be okay, they'd won the war, but her tongue was so heavy . . .

He vaulted over the seat and was beside her in less than a second, cradling her head in his arms as he called for Chakwas. She'd been hit enough times to know that this one wasn't anything special. She'd survive this; her Cerberus implants were already doing their job on the internal bleeding, but she was worn out. How long had it been since she'd really slept? She couldn't even remember the last time she'd sat down for longer than ten minutes.

She smiled up at Garrus and for the first time in years could see a future that didn't end in doom and blood. A future with the both of them in it. Her vision was beginning to blur and she knew that unconsciousness would claim her soon, but when she awoke it would be among friends, comrades-in-arms, her found family. She touched Garrus' face, his wonderful, scarred, silly face and said, "I stand by what I said."

"What?" He was still so worried, the sweet man, but he'd be okay, too. Soon.

"You know I love you. I always will."

The echo of her earlier words and the relief at having her here, alive, at the end of all this was too much and his throat locked up. Finally he managed to whisper, "I love you, too, Shepard."

Suddenly, Doctor Chakwas was there with a trauma kit, saying reassuring things that she couldn't really hear. The last thing she said before sleep overtook her was, "We won."

And they had. The war was over. They were free.

* * *

_And then everything was all puppies and rainbows and they all lived happily ever after, the end. :) Sorry for Mary Sue-ing a bit here, but I reeeeally hated the ending of ME3. So much angst and disappointment. *shakes fist at Bioware* Anyway, hope you liked it. _


End file.
